Reverence
by NefariousReaper
Summary: As a member of STARS, Chris Redfield had always looked up to Albert Wesker. Was it the intriguing aura of mystery? The sardonic one-liners? Or was it the omni-present sunglasses? A series of shorts on the interactions between Chris and Wesker.NOT SLASH
1. Chapter 1

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**Author's Note:**

I don't know what inspired me to come up with these, but they're here nonetheless. This is going to be a collection of one-shots/drabbles taking place before the events of the first game and are mostly centered around Chris and Wesker's relationship within S.T.A.R.S. **This is NOT a slash/gay/yaoi/whatever** fic by any means, more of a set of short stories that expands on the interaction between the two, establishes why the S.T.A.R.S. members respected Wesker so much (especially Chris) prior to the Mansion Incident, and thus sort of attempts to explain why Chris felt so betrayed when he discovered the truth behind Wesker's actions. Or something. I dunno, this is just something that I wanted to have fun with. Reviews and feedback are of course appreciated, and maybe if this collection is successful enough, I may expand upon it and turn it into an actual story instead of just random drabbles. Let me know what you think, yeah?

Oh, and if you just finished playing RE5, then of course the characters within are going to seem a bit out of character, but that is done mostly intentionally. I'm trying to capture their personalities _before_ the Mansion Incident and _before_ Wesker lost his humanity by turning himself into a super human/mutant/god, an incident which clearly altered the perceptions, behaviors and personalities of everyone involved. If you notice any glaring issues or have suggestions please feel free to talk to me about them, but I am not going to appreciate those who outright criticize without any substantial justification. I don't wanna hear "OMG liek Wesker'd never says that lololol u sux0rz!"without an actual, legitimate, intelligible reason.

So I understand that this chapter/installment/whatever is ridiculously short, but as I mentioned in the summary, these are merely meant to be a series of one-shots/drabbles revolving around Chris and Wesker before the Mansion Incident. The "chapters" can be read individually or taken as part of a great narrative; they loosely relate to one another and some chapters will make mention of event in other chapters, but not enough to establish a set time frame of the action. I may at some point actually turn it into some semblance of an actual story but for now I think I just want to keep it as random events. **I reiterate, this is NOT going to be a ChrisXWesker fic.** Nothing against gay couplings or couplings in general, for that matter, I just didn't want to do any sort of romance fic whatsoever. Wesker is too badass to have those sorts of attachments anyway. Duh.

**Disclaimer:** Obviously, I don't own Resident Evil. That would belong to the glorious Capcom. In fact, I'm sure none of the authors on this entire _site_ own much of anything.

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"Chris… how nice of you to join us."

'_Shit. There goes my attempt at a quiet entrance',_ Chris idly thought to himself as all four pairs of eyes turned to stare at him as he slunk into his chair next to Barry Burton. It was a Friday morning and he had a massive hangover so his being tardy wasn't all that unjustified in his mind. Really, he was only a couple of minutes late to the mission brief, but he could feel Captain Wesker's cold gaze fixed on him from behind his dark lenses. Why the Captain insisted on wearing sunglasses at every moment of the day, inside or outside, was completely beyond him but he had long ago learned to just accept it as one of Wesker's 'quirks'. Chris figured that the blond haired man wore them in order to maintain a degree of intimidation to those around him and by god he was doing one hell of a job right now. He didn't know what was worse, knowing that his slate blue eyes were glaring at him balefully behind the dark shades or seeing the cold orbs face to face.

Trying to shrug off his tardiness and show the other members of Alpha team that he wasn't affected by Wesker, he laughed lightly and scratched the back of his head.

"Sorry, sir." He stated simply, knowing full well that whatever the excuse he conjured up Wesker wouldn't believe anyway, even if it happened to be the truth. He had learned that one long ago and to Chris it had seemed like the two had reached an unspoken agreement; Wesker would bust his balls in front of the team and Chris would just simply obey and apologize to avoid any grueling punishment Wesker could conjure up and try his hardest not to be late for the next briefing until the process repeated itself a week or two later. Though apologizing and admitting his wrongdoing in front of Alpha had initially been an arduous process at first, Chris decided that choking back his pride temporarily was a significantly better choice than being subject to running laps for an indefinite time.

Chris was almost certain that he had escaped Wesker's wrath when all of a sudden the man strode casually over to him and his vision erupted in violent white flashes and his head felt like it had been severed in two with a hatchet. He clutched at his eyes, moaning in pain, and fidgeted in his chair until he finally fell off of it and onto the cold tile floor. When he managed to get the pain somewhat under control he creaked open one eye to Wesker's last known location and saw that the man stood but a few feet away from him… with what looked like a flashlight in his hand? Chris swore he saw the corners of the Captain's mouth twitch upwards in an amused grin when Chris registered that yes, it was in fact a flashlight.

_He knew I had a hangover, he did that on purpose! Bastard!_

Wesker clicked the instrument on and off in an inquisitive manner before looking back at his second-in-command who was now attempting to pull himself back into the chair.

"Rough night, Redfield?" he asked sardonically, obviously aware of the answer.

"Not as rough as this morning, apparently," Chris muttered under his breath, holding his head with his hands. Beside him, Barry and Joseph Frost were full out laughing, a sound that only worsened his now splitting headache, and Jill Valentine was trying not let her laugh escape her gloved hand. Brad just smiled nervously, unsure of what to think in this situation.

"Here, catch."

Chris barely had time to register what was going on before a bottle of ibuprofen came sailing through the air at him. His hand reached out and caught it instinctively, and he briefly wondered where the hell Wesker had pulled it from and if swallowing the entire bottle would do anything to alleviate his headache.

The Captain seemed to read his mind regarding the latter thought, for he snorted in a bemused fashion.

"The directions read three capsules, Redfield. I don't need you consuming the entirety of the bottle; you're still somewhat of a use to me."

Chris glared up at the older man, offhandedly registering that his half-smirk was once again present on his otherwise unreadable face, and decided that it was probably best not to comment. He muttered a barely intelligible 'thanks' before popping four of the pills, just out of spite. Well, that, and his headache was _really_ bad.

Valentine rolled her eyes at him and he shot her a dirty look in response. At least, he thought it was a dirty look. He probably looked like hell right about now, so it was difficult to determine whether he had glared or just twitched his eye oddly at her.

'_Just once, I'd like to see little Miss Perfect fuck up in front of the Captain so she can experience my misery on a daily basis',_ he thought.

Wesker seemed satisfied with Chris's obedience for he walked back to the large map that was behind him and cleared his throat.

"Now, as I had started to say…"

Chris tried to pay attention as best as he could, but his mind was already swarming with thoughts of revenge. One day he would catch his Captain off-guard and totally one-up him. One day…

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**Told you it was short. Let me know how it was anyway? The next one is longer I believe, just give me the incentive to post it :P**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you to those who did end up reviewing/already adding this story to their favorite's list- I did not expect it to be met with such success so soon. Yay!

So on a quasi-related side note; I think I may be a bit obsessed. Of course I own every single Resident Evil game to date (aside from the Outbreak series, because I like to pretend that they don't exist) but today marks a new height (or low?) to the fandom. I now possess Resident Evil 5 for both the Xbox 360 and the PS3 (I also have the infinitely stupid MadCatz RE5 headset for the PS3 [which sucks, don't _ever_ buy it] and a RE5 console skin for the 360). Is that a problem? I keep telling myself that it's totally justified; I have different friends on each console that want to play it, and since I already earned _all_ of the achievements on the 360 version, earning the trophies in the PS3 version just gives me something else to work for. Again, this is the madness that I tell myself to make it sound more rational. I don't do a good job, do I? Sigh. (Though I have to admit, I did forget how maddening that game is to play without unlimited ammo. Sheva doesn't even _have _a machine gun in her inventory and yet she insists on looting every single box of ammo that we come across. Thanks, partner).

Clearly I enjoy parenthesis indicating my side thoughts. Anyway, enough of my blathering. On to part deux!

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**Disclaimer:** I know it's shocking, but since the last chapter, I still have not amassed the funds needed to buy out Capcom. As such, I do not own any of the characters, locales, items, whatever associated with Resident Evil. Wah. I also do not own anything associated with Disney…

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Chris Redfield had never been one to willingly go out of his way to say at the office longer than needed to complete any given task. He clocked in when he was supposed to, though sometimes casually late (hey you couldn't blame him), and was usually out the door the minute after his shift ended. He didn't believe in office overtime, and he certainly didn't believe in ruining his hard earned time off from work pouring over files and reports.

Captain Albert Wesker clearly had different views.

Chris had returned to the precinct almost two hours after everyone had left for the weekend because he could not find his wallet for the life of him and figured that he had left it in his locker somewhere. He had anticipated that the Raccoon Police Department would be filled with its usual bustle, but he had counted on the S.T.A.R.S. offices on being dark and empty when he arrived- he would just shoot in, grab his wallet, and leave without incident. What he did not expect was to find Wesker in almost the same exact position he left him in over two hours ago: one hand supporting his head while the other's fingers drummed methodically on the desk as he scanned through reports on his portable laptop.

The blond haired captain of the special unit paid him no mind when Chris walked into the office, and so Chris simply figured that in his trance he was simply not heard. Chris shrugged and rolled his eyes. It was not like he had anticipated a warm reaction from the other man but he must have been so mesmerized by his work to not notice the not so quiet footsteps and lockers slamming as Chris attempted to locate his wallet. Even after gave up trying to locate the leather trifold, the blond did not offer him so much as a glance in recognition, though if he had Chris would have been none the wiser. The omnipresent sunglasses that the Captain wore made it impossible to see just where he was looking. Feeling devious, Chris decided that he would sneak up behind the other man but before he could even open his mouth to indicate his presence, Wesker spun around in his swivel chair and glanced up at Chris with a bemused expression.

"Yes, Chris?"

The brunet replaced his slight shock at being discovered with a mask of minor annoyance.

"Can't you just say hi like a normal person?" he muttered darkly.

"Perhaps, but that would be too conventional for my tastes," he responded with what Chris had dubbed a 'Wesker smirk' before gesturing to Chris's own desk with an inclination of his head. "Your wallet is under that pile of papers in the corner that you haphazardly threw there, if that is indeed what you are looking for. I cannot imagine you coming back to the office off-duty for any other reason."

Chris threw his hands up in frustration before stomping over to his desk and reshuffling the papers around. True enough, the wallet that he had been searching for was located under a light stack of papers that detailed their operations order from the previous week. How Wesker had known the exact location of his wallet was beyond him, but even more infuriating was that the older man had watched him rummage around the office for a good ten minutes without even offering to help. Chris sighed as he shoved the wallet in his right back pocket and then returned to the Captain's desk with arms folded over his chest. Wesker had since turned around and resumed his position huddled over the small screen.

Neither one of them said anything for a while, so Chris took it upon himself to not so tactfully peer over the other man's broad shoulder to see just was he was perusing through. They were files on the recent reports of murders by a cannibalistic cult; Chris had also seen increasing coverage of these events all over the news and suspected at one point S.T.A.R.S. would be dispatched to try and find the leaders of this supposed cult. Wesker's interest in scanning through every minutia detail only confirmed his suspicions. Good, he was ready for some action.

"It seems that most of these incidents are occurring in the direct vicinity of the Arklay Mountains to the northwest. There are at least six different reports, and yet no one had managed to bear witness to the full incident. One would think that by now, at least someone would have gotten glimpse of the culprit, or perhaps culprits, but the only common sightings are that of strange dogs."

Chris was shocked that not only did the captain not call him out for spying on his work, but was actually including him on whatever data he had found. He quickly put away his surprise and leaned closer the computer screen to watch as Wesker pulled up another data file, this time a map that displayed red dots wherever a body had been found that was linked to these incidents.

"Initially, the bodies were discovered in this vicinity," Wesker pointed to an area on the screen with a gloved finger, "but as more and more of these killings are occurring, they have started to migrate closer to Raccoon."

"The victims are usually hikers, right? So maybe this group has a hideout in the woods somewhere; since they rarely, if ever, come into town maybe they're… feeding… off of other people to stay alive? But… it doesn't sound like a normal cult to me… usually if a cult has some weird beliefs they leave behind evidence of their rituals. From what I've seen, the only evidence found at the crime scenes are the mangled bodies with various bite marks. That, and cults tend to not just 'pop up' randomly… So maybe it's just some crazy psychopath that's hiding out in the woods?" Chris mused.

"Hmm, a valid point, I suppose. And the dogs?"

"Well that's easy; animals respond to the way you train them. If this 'cannibal' trained a dog to attack other people, it will do so to please its master. Growing up, I had two neighbors with dogs; one had a Doberman, and the other had some little furry shit, I think it was a poodle or some crap. I don't know. Anyway, the guy with the Doberman was real nice, so the Doberman was the friendliest dog I've ever met. The asshole with the other thing hated kids so he taught it to run up and attack us when we were playing near his yard. It sucked."

Wesker let out a derisive laugh as a mental image of a young Chris Redfield running and screaming at the sight of a small dog entered his mind. "You were scared of a poodle?"

"Hey, I never said I was scared! I just said that it was a mean little dog that's all!" Chris attempted to cover for himself.

Suddenly, his phone went off with a series of high pitched beeps, cutting off any further ridicule. Wesker raised an inquisitive brow at the interruption while Chris flipped open the small device.

"It's my sister. She probably wants to know if I wanted to do dinner," he answered the silent question, not quite sure he was trying to justify himself to the other man but had felt compelled to nonetheless.

"Dinner…?"

"Yeah, you know that thing where you eat food towards the end of the day in order to sustain your body? Sometimes followed by desert, maybe even seconds? Or is that too 'conventional' for you either?" Chris mocked good-naturedly.

"Shit."

The brunet blinked in confusion as Wesker inspected the clock on the opposite wall and powered down his computer in an instant. He had never heard the captain swear before, so something must be up.

"Everything okay, sir?"

"I apparently misjudged how long I had spent looking over those reports and neglected to keep track of the time. I had a prior engagement for the evening." The blond explained as he whipped his desk into order and gathered his personal effects.

Chris, emboldened by their conversation, felt it was now time to heckle Wesker in revenge for his earlier mockery.

"Ooh, hot date sir?" Granted he had never seen or even heard the captain talk to a female that wasn't associated with S.T.A.R.S. or the police department but surely he had _some_ commonality with the average male.

Wesker snorted. "If your definition of a hot date involves watching Disney movies and having tea parties with stuffed animals, then yes."

It was then that he must have noticed the cogs turning in Chris's mind because he scowled darkly and brushed past the other man. "I have to play caretaker to the young daughter of a friend tonight," he explained sourly.

This was quite possibly the best information Chris had ever heard about the older man. Cool as ice, hard-assed, sarcastic, I-wear-my-sunglasses-at-night Wesker was playing babysitter to some kid? Chris almost doubled over, he was laughing so hard. The images of Wesker sitting down in a chair while some little girl attempted to win him over with stuffed ponies and tea sets that were playing over and over in his head was too much. He didn't even care if the captain excused him from S.T.A.R.S. on the spot for such a display of disrespect, because it was totally worth it. There was no way he was going to let this admission go to waste.

"So the great Captain Wesker plays nanny on his Friday nights? Sir, I would have never placed you as someone so warming and thoughtful towards small children," he taunted shamelessly as he followed the other man down the halls and out of the building into the staff parking lot. "You and my sister would get along just fine."

"Mr. Redfield, it is so important to your career and your immediate well-being that you cease your inane commentary."

By now the loud guffawing had somewhat subsided into sporadic chuckles as Chris watched his captain proceed to his car and fumble for his keys in very obvious agitation. Wesker was lucky that both he and the other man had somewhere to be, because there was no other way that Chris was going to let something like this go so easily, and there was absolutely no way that Wesker would have allowed Chris to remain a living being for much longer if he had continued his taunting. He was almost surprised he hadn't been executed and thrown in the dumpster yet, but still too amused to care.

"See ya later, Captain! Put in a request for 'The Little Mermaid' for me, will ya?"

He retreated, still chuckling to himself, to his motorcycle while ignoring the daggers that the blond was glaring into his back. Plopping himself down on the warm leather seat, he laughed again as he watched the Captain's black sedan screech out of the parking lot and out of sight within seconds.

_I guess there are some perks to staying in the office late after all… _Chris mused with a grin.

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You can probably guess who Wesker was referring to when he mentioned the daughter of a friend. Not like it's particularly difficult. Why Chris requested "The Little Mermaid" is beyond me, it was the first Disney movie that came to mind. I don't even like that one, but maybe Chris has a deep seeded crush on Ariel? Wonders never cease.

Yay for being longer (Bow chicka bow wow)! Let me know how it was!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **So I think I need a better summary. I'm seeing all of this traffic to Reverence and only a small handful of people actually taking the time to review (thank you kindly), which is slightly disheartening. Now taking suggestions for what the summary should be, because I can only possess so much creativity. That and I'm horribly sleep deprived right now.

**Disclaimer:** This one is a little bit darker than the other two but oh wells. I also still lack the ownership over all that is Capcom. Sadness. Sorrow. Shame. (OMG DID YOU KNOW THAT THERE'S A 'NEW' KATAMARI GAME COMING OUT FOR PS3?!?!!?? CAN'T WAIT!!!!1!)

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They had been tracking this guy for weeks; Rupert Jones, a suspect in the kidnapping, rape, and murder of at least five different young females. S.T.A.R.S. had taken over the investigation when the R.P.D. had turned up a positive ID on the bastard from one of the pieces of evidence left at his last crime scene. From the reports and investigations, it was clear that this guy was needlessly torturing these women for days on end before murdering and dismembering their bodies to hide the parts in different locations across Raccoon City. On his last excursion, the victim had managed to slice into his face with her car keys before he did away with her, and the small sample of blood that had remained on the discarded keys had been enough to get a match.

Jones had holed himself up in a motel on the outskirts of town when Alpha Team was dispatched to either bring him in or take him out. It seemed like it was supposed to be a relatively easy operation- the raid had started at dusk and Jones had been completely unprepared for the arrival of S.T.A.R.S. and thus could do nothing but attempt to escape from the motel. They had even managed to corner the son-of-a-bitch without too much incident, until they realized that Jones had not been alone in the motel room. Thrown into the shower with her pleading eyes still wide open was the body of his latest victim. Apparently, he had killed her in his haste to escape from the police. Chris was the one that had discovered the body and when he got a closer look at her marred features, he recognized her as one of Claire's friends from college. With nothing left to lose Jones decided he was going to heckle the young officer, going into detail about his disgusting exploits with her unwilling body and her reactions to his horrid ministrations. It was then that Chris snapped. He rushed at the man and decked the murderer as hard as he could with his fist. He continued punching, despite the fact that he knew that Jones could not defend himself, until Wesker and Barry had pulled him off the other man and ordered him back to the precinct before he could cause any more of a scene.

That's where he still remained. He knew that his actions would probably have caused him to be immediately discharged from the police force but right now he could not bring himself to care. That bastard deserved to die for what he had done to those girls. He stood alone on the roof of the office building looking out into the horizon, going over the scenario in his head and wishing that S.T.A.R.S. had gotten there just a few minutes sooner.

"Chris? What are you doing here so late?"

He immediately recognized the drawling voice as belonging to his captain but could not bring himself to care at this moment in time. He was still infuriated at the day's events and fully intended to wallow in his misery alone… at least until the blond showed up.

Working as a member of S.T.A.R.S. for almost two years had introduced him to the most twisted of individuals- terrorists, murderers, rapists, serial killers- but he had taken all of his assignments in stride and his dealings with the worst of humanity had never affected him as this case had. Jones, just like the many others of society's rejects that S.T.A.R.S. had put away, should have been just a face to go with a name, but to Chris it was so much more. Never before had a case hit him so hard to home before; it could have been Claire that was killed, for christsakes. Jones' last victim was a young girl that Claire had gone to school with and hung around with; hell, they had even been together the night that the girl was abducted. What if the killer had followed Claire home instead of poor Liz Downing? It would have been his sister's body that S.T.A.R.S. had uncovered earlier that day, and the thought of that bothered Chris to no end.

Chris was not a vengeful person. Sure, people had wronged him in the past but over time he realized that most of the events were not important in the larger scheme of things. But never before had he been face to face with a person and wanted to just execute the scumbag right then and there. Hell, he probably would have if the captain and Barry hadn't entered the scene when they did and arrested Jones on the spot. He knew that he had let his emotions get the better of him, but he simply didn't care. If he was going to be removed from S.T.A.R.S., so be it. There was nothing he could exactly do to prevent it at this point and it wasn't like he was a stranger to being discharged.

"What happened today, Mr. Redfield? Your reaction was unlike anything I have ever seen from you in the past."

"If you came here to tell me what I already know, you can save it. I'll get my shit out of my locker and be on my way soon," Chris growled in agitation.

"Taking the initiative to tidy up your locker seems largely irrelevant to this conversation, Christopher."

Infuriated once more, Chris spun around, shouting loud enough that the entire office below could probably hear him.

"I really, _really,_ am not about to deal with your smart-ass bullshit right now! If you want me out of here, I'm gone. I don't feel like skirting around the goddamned issue. Just say the word,_ Captain,_" Chris sneered.

Much to Chris's surprise, Wesker did not even appear to be fazed by the hostile remarks. Instead, the captain slowly walked up to stand a mere foot away from the still seething brunet and casually removed his dark sunglasses.

"I believe I asked you a simple question and I merely wanted your answer."

"You want to know why I almost fucking killed that bastard? Fine!" he bellowed, unfazed by Wesker's intimidating stance. "That girl that we found? That was one of my sister's friends! They had gone out to dinner the night he was abducted by _him_. Don't you see? It could have been Claire lying stripped and bleeding in that bathtub! He could have killed my baby sister!"

His body involuntarily shuddered from the release of such pent up emotion, but Wesker remained passive and unmoved.

"I was unaware that this mission would have emotionally compromised you, Chris. While there is some justification for your actions, as I am sure that you are aware, your conduct today was out of line with every expected behavior of a police officer." Wesker paused to let his words sink through and calmly walked past Chris to stand a mere foot away from the edge of the rooftop. Both men remained silent while Chris waited to hear the verdict and Wesker simply gazed at the horizon.

"It is fortunate that Mr. Jones provoked you into a hostile engagement and you were forced to defend yourself. Otherwise you would have been discharged for use of excessive force."

Chris was so taken aback by the Captain's words that he could only spin around and stare dumbfounded into the back of the other man's head. 'Defending himself'? What the hell was he saying? The younger officer had been provoked, yes, but not physically. Confused, Chris darted over to Wesker's side.

"Captain, what the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, still incredulous. "You and Barry… you saw what I did!"

"What I saw when I entered the scene was a fugitive resisting arrest and one of my officers attempting to subdue the target, rather unsuccessfully, I might add. Upon recognizing the struggle, I called Mr. Burton for assistance and together we managed to detain said fugitive. I have already submitted the report to Chief Irons. While rather annoyed at the escalation of the situation, Irons sees no need to pursue the matter."

Chris continued to stare with his mouth agape while he tried to make sense of the situation. He had been so sure that he was going to be discharged from S.T.A.R.S. that this new turn of events had him completely flabbergasted.

"Sir, I can't possibly ask you to compromise yourself by falsifying information on my behalf-"

"As I had said before, I have already submitted the report. What we found at the motel is very clearly incriminating evidence against Mr. Jones and we have the DNA report to tie him to the Abigail Sullivan murder. I believe his defense attorney is going to make a bid for the insanity defense, thus, his possible allegations of 'police brutality' are unlikely to ever make it into the courtroom. So," Wesker turned his body so that it was once more facing Chris. "You made mention of cleaning out your locker? At this point that would require you to spend more time off-hours at the office and I cannot imagine you doing that willingly."

Chris blinked, still having some difficulty digesting what had just transpired. The Air Force had discharged him for something substantially less serious than what had happened today, and let unlike his former superiors, Wesker wanted to keep him on the team?

"Captain… I'm not sure what to say…" he admitted.

"Chris, I am not about to let you leave S.T.A.R.S. that easily," the captain stated, smirking. "You are, after all, still somewhat of use to me."

The brunet snorted in indignation. "You mean that I'm a walking stress ball for your convenience and you would have a hard time finding someone else to replace me," he muttered.

"Hmm, something like that."

Wesker resituated his sunglasses upon his face before motioning to leave.

"Get out of here Chris. It's far too late for you to still be at the precinct off the clock. Get some rest before some other crisis arises and I have to call you in early for another debriefing of which you will undoubtedly be late to."

"So you've come to terms with it then?" Chris asked, now grinning.

"Hardly."

"I didn't think so. It wouldn't be a normal day at the office if you weren't giving me hell and I weren't finding new ways to drive you crazy."

"I shudder at the thought," came the sarcastic reply.

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

"…Thanks."

Wesker managed a ghost of a smile before brushing past Chris to exit down the flight of stairs. The latter remained on the roof for a few more moments reflecting upon the enigma that was his captain before smiling wanly himself and exiting to head home.

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**Answer: Yes, it was a reference to Sherry and the Birkin family. Yay!**

**A little bit shorter than the last chapter, but I really couldn't find a way to prolong it without seeming forced.** **Oh yeah, happy 4th to those of you celebrating it. I actually have a cookout that I'm pretty hell-bent on avoiding personally, but I hope others are enjoying it.** **I also managed to come up with a plausible way to turn this into a legit story, but I have to work out some kinks first. I'm going to continue on as is for now, and then just probably rewrite/rework the beginning chapters.** **We'll see. **

**Thank you to all of you that have already reviewed (and a special shout out goes to _aquacrow_- I'm glad someone appreciates the obsession :) ) and I hope to see more people putting in their two-cents in the future. Feedback is the lifeblood of a writer. (Unless you're a caffeine junkie like myself, in which cause I suppose you're just screwed?)  
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	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I don't know if I'm 100% happy with this installment, but oh wells. I think it gets a little jumpy in places, but I really couldn't figure out a way to make it more coherent. Fail. Well, as long as the rest of you enjoy it, I'm good. Oh, I know I said that each of these chapters kinda stand alone as one-shots, but I guess you would have had to read Ch2 to get Chris's reference. Meh.

**Disclaimer:** Resident Evil and all of its entities therein are the property of the glorious Capcom.

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Albert Wesker was not the type to willingly engage in social contact, least of all attend large events with huge gatherings of people, so getting him to actually agree to go to the RPD's annual police banquet had been one of the most grueling challenges Chris had ever faced. There was no real reason why he thought it necessary that Wesker should attend but as part of his routine to playfully agitate the captain, he had taken the impossible task upon himself. He had tried every trick he knew; bribery, guilt-tripping, mocking, use of outside influence, and even down-right begging in an attempt to get Wesker to attend the event and still nothing even remotely influenced the stubborn and impenetrable man that was his captain. Chris was almost ready to just give up and accept defeat when he remembered one aspect of the captain's cool personality; his pride. And so he had publicly made Wesker a wager-they would compete in a shooting contest. If Chris won, Wesker would have to attend the banquet and stay for the entire duration of the event. However, if Wesker was the victor, Chris would play personal secretary to Wesker for an entire month; he would come in on time, fill out the tedious reports to Chief Irons, and even bring the captain coffee in the morning, plus whatever else Wesker could think of to put Chris to work. Not wanting to waste an opportunity to have the marksman at his complete bidding and thoroughly confident in his own abilities, Wesker had willingly accepted the terms of the agreement and so the entirety of S.T.A.R.S. had paraded down to the firing range to witness the two men duel. Chris was usually favored to win when it came to any shoot-out between him and another member of S.T.A.R.S., but few could actually bring themselves to bet against Wesker. He was very rarely seen practicing at the firing range but no one on the force doubted the Alpha Team captain's abilities.

The 'match' had lasted a good twenty minutes and still neither Chris nor Wesker had been declared the winner. They had taken to playing a sort-of variant of the game "Horse"; the first shooter would hit a random spot on a target twenty-five yards away and the follow-up would be expected to hit that same location or lose the match. In order to expedite the process, they had both agreed that even being off the mark just once or ever so slightly would ensure victory for the other shooter. With neither one of them wanting to lose however, the competition was lasting a lot longer than expected and Chris was beginning to lose steam. Wesker of course had noticed the fatigue on the younger man, which only increased his level of confidence. This however, was exactly what Chris wanted.

Wesker was lining up to repeat Chris's shooting of what would have been through the left eye of an actual person on the target in the distance. The captain was on average quicker to aim and pull the trigger than the marksman was, but this too, worked to Chris's advantage. Just as he saw Wesker's trigger finger twitch, he leaned close and bellowed "Wesker likes tea parties!" loud enough that everyone heard it even through their ear protection. Wesker had flinched ever so slightly, but when they pulled up the targets, Wesker's bullet had missed its mark by mere millimeters and thus making Chris the much disputed winner of the shootout.

And so here they were at the banquet, the majority of S.T.A.R.S. feasting and celebrating together while their captain brooded angrily in a corner of the room somewhere. Chris had actually expected Wesker to flat out refuse to attend despite their agreement but was nonetheless pleased that his plan had worked.

"I still can't believe you won, despite the fact that you cheated," Barry marveled.

Joseph took a large swig of his drink before clapping Chris heartily on the back. "Yeah, it was awesome! Why the hell did you yell that though, anyway?"

Chris just laughed. "I guess it's an inside joke."

Jill raised a dark eyebrow in question but he just shrugged and took a sip of his beer. True, he had the opportunity to let the rest of his team in on the lesser known aspects of the captain's life but the older man had been subjugated enough for one day.

"Speaking of the Captain, I think I should go find him before he decides to go on a murderous rampage. He's not exactly a people person," Chris mused, excusing himself from the group when they nodded fervently in agreement.

After several minutes of wandering around the crowds of people, Chris finally spotted Wesker on the balcony, scowling angrily at the retreating back of a rather attractive woman. Quirking an eyebrow in curiosity, the marksman waltzed over the blond and wrapped a playful arm around his broad shoulders and gestured to the retreating woman with his beverage hand.

"Aww, did the captain get rejected by the pretty lady?" Chris mocked.

"Hardly. The woman lacks the propriety to realize when her company is unwanted. She has been making fool-hardy advances since we arrived and it was growing tiresome."

Just then, the woman turned around to glare hatefully at the pair, at which point Chris noticed the mascara running freely down her cheeks and her red-rimmed, puffy eyes.

"You made her cry?!" Chris demanded, unhooking his arm from Wesker's shoulder and staring at the older man with complete shock. "What kind of monster are you?"

Wesker snorted in indignation. "At least I have the decency to cause her suffering whilst still face to face. I cannot even begin to count every woman you've left alone in the morning after you've slunk away somewhere during the night."

"Ouch! Way to hit below the belt, Captain," Chris placed a hand over his chest in mock hurt. "But touché, nonetheless," he added thoughtfully, taking a large swig from his glass.

The blond smirked and looked towards the small group of S.T.A.R.S. members that were several yards away and watching the pair with interest. From this range, it was impossible that the other officers could hear what was going on, with the exception of Chris's outburst, perhaps, but that clearly did not stop them from intently spying or looking away guiltily when they noticed their captain's steely gaze.

"I do hope however, that you will extend greater courtesy and respect towards Miss Valentine."

Chris almost choked on his drink; the comment had caught him so off-guard. When he was finished sputtering and coughing, he looked up at his captain incredulously.

"Jill? Wha-what do you mean?"

"Chris," Wesker drawled mockingly, "it's fairly apparent with the way you stare lecherously at her all the time. Did you honestly think that no one would notice?"

"I do not stare! Besides, she's not my type." He defended himself nervously, taking another sip from his beer in an attempt to look unaffected.

"Ah, you mean not blonde with copious amounts of choice female anatomy?"

"Exactly! I mean- no! Yes? Wait- ugh!" he mentally slapped himself for falling too easily into Wesker's trap. "You know that I hate you sometimes, right?" he stated miserably.

"You flatter me."

"Only you would take that as a compliment," Chris sighed and looked toward the direction where Jill was standing, her body now turned away from the two men. "I just- I dunno. I mean, she's cute, but I just don't think it would work out…" he trailed off.

Wesker simply raised an inquisitive eyebrow, waiting patiently for Chris to continue.

"I never have much luck attracting the 'good' girls. Jill, well, she's one of the good ones. She's strong-willed, capable, fun, attractive in her own way, and definitely unique. Plus she's my partner- I'd trust her to watch my back no matter what. Speaking of, why are you encouraging me? You should be telling me that dating a co-worker is improper, or something." He asked suspiciously.

"Chris, when have you ever actually listened to anything I've told you? Whether I wish it or not, you will always remain steadfast and stubborn in whatever your goal is at the time. It's both an admirable and tiresome trait of yours. Since I have zero faith that you will be unable to restrain yourself, I simply ask that you are a bit more careful with this situation. I do hate filling out needless reports to human resources, and at this point if it came down to it, I would gladly keep Miss Valentine on the squad over you." Wesker smirked.

"Wow, thanks Captain. Good to know that I'm truly appreciated." Chris replied dejectedly, slumping his shoulders in disappointment.

"Perhaps if you actually arrived to the office on time and heeded my command, I would find you in higher favor."

"Somehow I think you would still have some reason to hate me, even if I did do all of those things." He muttered bitterly.

"Chris," Wesker drawled, "you should know by now that despite certain personal… failings… I regard you as my best man. Contrary to your belief, I did not assign you to be Alpha Team's Pointman on a whim. You've more than proven yourself capable."

The younger man allowed a small smile to make its way onto his face. Chris knew that the captain was all but incapable of giving out a real compliment, so the fact that he had allowed this admission truly meant something to the brunet. Suddenly he felt himself becoming very inspired to draw the line between him and his partner as just that- partners, at least for the time being. Besides, what Wesker didn't know couldn't possibly hurt him, right?

He had been about to voice his resolution when he noticed that Wesker seemed to no longer be paying any attention to their conversation. Instead, he seemed to be focused on a crowd of people located near the cocktail bar. Annoyed, Chris waved his free hand in front of the captain's face in a futile attempt to win back his attention.

"I apologize, but it seems I have to leave you to enjoy the rest of this inane gathering on your own," Wesker cut in, glancing briefly at a very confused Chris Redfield. "It would seem that my presence is required elsewhere."

Without any other warning, the blond casually walked away from the balcony and toward the gathering of people near the bar. Chris watched curiously as his captain strode over to a very elegant looking woman in a scarlet colored dress with a tasteful but revealing slit up its side and his jaw all but dropped in shock when he saw Wesker place a confident hand on the mysterious beauty's back to lead her away from the rabble. After they had disappeared from sight, Chris found himself unable to remove the dumbfounded and shocked expression from his face.

After several moments of incredulous staring, his agape mouth turned into a goofy grin. So, his captain was a human male after all! Chris was sure to store away this information in the vault of his mind so he could make ample use of it later; he reasoned that it was due to his direct influence that Wesker had managed to meet up with such an attractive woman, and he didn't plan on letting the blond live it down any time soon. Still grinning, Chris ordered another glass of beer and resolved to make a silent toast to his captain before seeking out his fellow S.T.A.R.S. members once more to enjoy the rest of the banquet.

---

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**AN:** Aww, Chris is crushing on Jill! Obviously while there is never any official word on a 'relationship' between them, they definitely seem like more than just partners, so I guess I'm attempting to set them up for how/why they act the way they do in the future. Jill seemed awfully concerned for Chris's wellbeing in RE1 and obviously Chris's obsession with Jill in RE5 goes a little bit beyond 'just partners' if you ask me. I'm not going to actually make them into a couple, but I suppose they're fun to play around with.

Wonder who the bitch in the red dress is- I MEAN… what?

I'm _definitely_ _not_ going for a Wesker/Ada pairing in this; I envision the scene as Wesker meeting with Ada to discuss their dastardly dealings with The Agency and Chris just kinda makes assumptions from there. I don't believe that Capcom ever officially stated when exactly Ada and Wesker began their negotiations and since Wesker had been planning to leave Umbrella, I took the liberty to assume that they had begun their partnership fairly early on. Who knows? And if Capcom did state something to the contrary, well, shenanigans. It's a fanfic for a reason :P. Plus, again, Wesker is too badass to be involved in relationships and I really cannot envision Ada becoming romantically involved with Wesker on any level. That whole Leon thing kinda gets in the way.

Anyway, reviews would be appreciated, as always.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** I am terribly sorry for the delay in updating but things at work have been all kinds of hectic. Yay for 6-day work weeks! ;lsakfjsdlf. On a positive note though, I may be getting promoted…

Anyway, this chapter isn't quite where I would have wanted it to be but I'll try to update it at a later date; I just wanted to get it out ASAP. I had the majority of this (and other chapters, for that matter) written, I just kept getting stuck toward the end. Oh well. Hopefully it isn't too terrible.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything out of the Resident Evil Universe, nor do I attempt to claim ownership over the characters, creatures, etc. Zhey are all copyright to Capcom.

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Chris had never been so proud of himself. It was a Friday morning and for once in his entire career at S.T.A.R.S., he had actually woken up early and was able to not only shower and eat breakfast before he left for work, but had managed his time effectively so that he was actually going to be _early_ when he walked into the precinct. Late, usually; on-time, sometimes; but actually early? This was to be a monumental occasion indeed; he was sure even Captain Wesker would be somewhat impressed with his efforts.

At least, that was what Chris had intended before his car broke down, leaving him stranded on the side of the road.

He growled in fury as he slammed his hood down after inspecting his engine. From what his cursory diagnosis told him, it looked like he had blown a head-gasket. There were scorch marks where the engine had attempted to suck up anti-freeze instead of the vital, but lacking, coolant. Chris had written off his car's increasing engine heat gauge as a defect of the internal computer; after all, the car had an annoying habit of telling him that he was out of oil when he literally filled it up day before or indicating that his battery was dying even though he replaced both the battery and the alternator fairly recently. This time, however, his car's warnings had indeed been real and he was forced to pull over when he noticed smoke billowing from his hood. Now the car wouldn't even start, and to make matters worse, it was raining.

Chris leaned against his now dead car, drooping his head in defeat. In his determination to leave his apartment early, he had forgotten his cell phone on the kitchen counter and thus had no way of even contacting a tow company to remove his vehicle from the side of the road, much less to call the office and attempt to explain to his captain why he was late. Redfield luck was clearly not on his side today.

He watched idly as the other cars flew by him in excess speeds, some even driving through puddles to splash cold water on his already defeated form. It wasn't like he actually expected some random person to pull-over and give him a hand, but it certainly didn't stop him from hoping.

It was then that he noticed a dark car suddenly swerve into the break-down lane and approach him at a rapid speed. His initial elation at the timely appearance of a kindred soul was replaced by sheer horror when he determined that there was no way that this psychopath could possibly stop their vehicle before either hitting his parked car, running him over, or both. Too terrified to move, he simply pressed his body up against his car as much as he could and prayed to whatever deity existed that he survive this encounter.

Somehow, the black sedan managed a complete stop just inches away from the rear bumper of his car and Chris let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He had to fight back the urge to run and tackle the other driver for almost killing him but immediately repressed the desire once he recognized the black-clad, blond-haired man that had stepped out of the vehicle.

"Wesker?!"

"Car troubles, Chris?" The captain of S.T.A.R.S. inquired wryly.

Chris scoffed and punched his car in annoyance. "Yeah."

"Have you already called a tow company?"

"Err, no. I may or may not have left my cell phone at home…" he answered evasively.

"Hopeless, as usual." Wesker sighed and gestured toward his own car with an inclination of his head. "Get in. I'll have one of the mechanics from the station take care of it." Without another word, the blond turned and resumed his position in his vehicle.

Chris inwardly debated on whether it would be a better idea to just on the side of the road with his car or actually take Wesker up on his offer. It wasn't that he didn't trust the older man, it was just, well, it would be terribly awkward to share a close proximity with him for an extended period of time. He shook his head, willing the strange thoughts away before concluding that at this point, any help was better than staying here and getting soaked so he removed the valuables from his car and darted into Wesker's black sedan.

No sooner did Chris close the door did they speed off, narrowly avoiding sideswiping his beat-up car in the process. Fearfully, Chris buckled his seat-belt and pulled on it to reassure himself that when they inevitably got into a car accident, he would have a greater chance of survival. In the driver's seat, Wesker seemed unfazed as he barked orders into his black cell phone and continued to swerve in and out of traffic. Suddenly Chris found himself wishing that he had just stayed with his car.

After concluding the conversation with the mechanic, Wesker returned the phone to its dock on the center console, grinning wickedly as he noticed how Chris's knuckles were turning white with the intensity that they gripped the sides of his seat.

"Do you always drive like this?" the brunet questioned, swallowing in fear.

"Only when I'm entertaining company such as yourself, Chris."

"What you call 'entertaining' is what normal people would call 'scaring the shit out of'"

Immediately Wesker slowed his vehicle to a respectable pace within the speed limit and Chris visibly relaxed. The blond merely snickered in response.

Several moments passed with neither one of them saying a word to one another. Chris had resigned himself to staring apathetically out the window, listening as the rain continued to make pinging noises off of the roof of the car. Eventually the silence began to eat at him and he dared a glance at the impassive face of the S.T.A.R.S. captain. The man was still wearing his damned sunglasses.

"It's raining," he stated matter-of-factly.

Wesker raised an eyebrow at this obviousness of his second's statement and smirked at his sarcastic finest.

"I truly appreciate you pointing out what is so painfully evident, Chris. I sometimes wonder whatever I would do without your insight."

Chris scowled darkly at the older man and crossed his arms over his chest in both agitation and defense. "Rain usually indicates that the sun is obscured by clouds. So why the hell do you still wear sunglasses?"

Wesker mulled over his response to Chris's inquiry for a moment before responding. In truth, he wore them because he couldn't stand the artificial, bright white lights of the numerous labs he had spent time in over the past several years and wore them to take the edge off. That and they did a fantastic job at hiding the red in his eyes after so many sleepless nights working on a new project for Umbrella. At this point, he had simply grown accustomed to wearing them almost continuously and rarely even noticed when they were upon his face. It had simply become routine. Of course, divulging Chris in the truth behind his 'quirk' was horribly counterintuitive to keeping his background with Umbrella a secret.

"My eyes are sensitive to light," he offered instead, noticing with mirth how Chris's shoulders seemed to slump with disappointment from his less than exciting response.

"Oh," the brunet muttered dumbly. "I guess that makes sense… So I guess you see better in the dark, huh?"

"Presumably better than the average human, yes. It also serves as an excellent training tactic; when sight is limited, one learns to make better use of other senses. Relying on sight alone is a crutch too many fall back on while remaining ignorant of the enlightenment other senses can provide."

Chris nodded his head slowly and then perked up with eagerness. "So can I start wearing sunglasses in our missions then?"

Wesker curt laugh was more than enough to stifle the younger man's excitement.

"Chris, I can barely get you to pay attention and be of use while you still possess sight. I don't need you running haplessly around anymore than you already do."

"Wow, way to be a killjoy, Captain."

"I aim to please."

Chris once again folded his arms and uttered barely coherent whispers of revenge on 'sunglass-wearing weirdoes' before noticing that they had safely arrived at the Raccoon City Police Department. Realizing that Wesker had already exited the car, Chris gathered his things and stepped out onto the pavement, realizing that the rain had somewhat subsided into a light drizzle.

"Mr. Harris, the mechanic, has already left to go tow your vehicle. I would assume that he would have it back here within the hour and begin to work on it for you; if you would like to excuse yourself from the office early to take care of it, you may."

Chris rolled his eyes at his captain's ambivalent drawling voice. "Thank you sir, you're too kind." He muttered sarcastically.

Wesker smirked and began walking towards the front door of the RPD when Chris ran up to him and placed an uncertain hand on the older man's shoulder to grab his attention.

"Uhm, thanks. For rescuing me, I mean." He admitted when he captain had stopped and turned to face him.

The blonde merely nodded and was about to continue on his way when he heard another one of Chris's musings.

"I think you just feel threatened that I could pull off the sunglasses better than you could."

"Threatened, by you? Hah! Never."

Chris was so stunned by the captain's quick reaction that he merely stood in the parking lot with sheer shock spread across his features as Wesker continued into the building. He managed an indignant yell before trotting up to match stride with his captain, all the while arguing over who would indeed look better in sunglasses. Their debate raged on as they trod up the stairs to the S.T.A.R.S. office, both confusing and entertaining the other special forces members who had already arrived. Chris and Wesker arguing over something inane? Just another day at the office.

---

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**Author's Note:** I'm really not a fan of the ending, but I really couldn't put any more thought into it (that and I have to start getting ready for work _) Sorry.

So that was actually based on a true story, only I broke down on a highway off-ramp and Wesker certainly didn't save me. I did however talk to the tow truck driver about Resident Evil and video games in general, which made me happy. It would have ended up being a $2000 repair job. F that. RIP Phantom (my truck). I now have a car that could probably fit in the bed of my truck and have already christened it with a custom decal of the Umbrella logo. I are awesome!

In other news, I'm in the process of replaying RE4. I had forgotten how horrifying it was, but still way too entertaining. I strongly advise you to play it through with someone who either hasn't played it or isn't retarded (referencing myself, of course) and shoot the water at dock before you hop in that little boat to fight the giant fish monster thing. Why I discovered this, I have no idea (who the hell in their right mind wastes ammo on water?), but 3 or so shots will give you quite the comical surprise.

As always, please review. Hopefully the next chapter will not have the same wait as this one did _.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own nor claim to own any aspect of the Resident Evil universe. As if I could take on Capcom in a legal suit... Hah.

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Chris had put a year's worth of preparation into this one day. Long months of planning, sleepless nights spent scheming, it all boiled down to this. Especially following up with the incident with Barry and Brad last year, Chris had made a personal vow to outshine all those that had come before him. His plan had been carefully laid out, and he had even enlisted the help of Joseph and even his sister Claire to aid him in his grand stratagem. It was crunch-time, and Chris could feel the beads of perspiration trickle down his face in anticipation. It was now time.

12:00AM. April Fool's day had officially begun.

At such a late hour, the Raccoon City Police Station was uncharacteristically quiet. Sure, the graveyard shift staff was puttering around on the first floor, but no one was going to bother to patrol the emergency exit by the fire escape or, more importantly, the second floor where his destination lay- the S.T.A.R.S. offices. Joseph had already made his way into the building under the guise of forgetting something in his locker and was in the process of unlocking the back door so that Chris could enter the building unnoticed with their boxes of supplies.

When he heard a soft click, Chris gently pushed the door open and peered around before gathering the boxes and silently padded into the building, careful close the door behind him as quiet as possible. He made his way to the stairwell without incident, crouching low and signaling for his partner in crime.

Almost immediately, Frost came creeping out of the shadows and snatched his own box of equipment, grinning wickedly.

"Are you ready for this, Redfield?"

"Of course I am. Is that everything?"

Frost rifled through the boxed and announced each item as he came across it, shoving whatever it happened to be at the time into Chris's face.

"Sure do! We got the saran wrap, the toothpaste, the paperclips, the cream cheese, the paint, the lamp shade, the jell beans, the-"

"Okay, okay!" Chris interjected. "You take the equipment room first; I'll set up in the office. Meet me back here in… 20 minutes?"

"Roger!" Joseph needed no other persuasion before slinking off to go carry out his portion of the deed.

The marksman waited until the other man was out of sight, lingering in his position for a couple of extra moments to ensure that no one was alerted to their presence before making his way to Alpha Team's office. Sure, being members of S.T.A.R.S., he and his cohort would probably have had no problem accessing the office like normal people without too much suspicion, but sneaking around like five-year-olds had a certain kind of appeal to it. That, and they wanted to make sure that absolutely no one would be able to witness their preparations and tip off the other members of the special force before their pranks were sprung. He even planned on setting up a camera to capture the exact moment the Captain unwittingly walked into the office.

Chris barely stifled a childish giggle as he began unloading his supplies. Barry and Brad had been the main targets of last year's pranks, but that didn't necessarily exclude them from this year's shenanigans. It just meant that their punishment wouldn't be nearly as severe as what would happen to the others. For Barry, they had planned a couple of simple, but classic pranks; toothpaste filled oreos would be found in his lunch pack and the deodorant that he kept in his locker was going to be scooped out and replaced with cream cheese. Meanwhile, Vickers would be getting phone calls all day on a phone that could not be taken off of speaker phone from a particularly unhappy male "client" that was actually going to be voiced by Claire outfitted with a voice changer. For Jill and the new girl Rebecca, Joseph was currently in the process of saran-wrapping the toilet seats in the restrooms for quite an embarrassing surprise sometime during the course of the day. Joseph also had something in store for each of the members of Bravo team, but Chris was too focused on his master plan to remember. It was going to be the be-all, end-all of April Fool's jokes. The Captain didn't even stand a chance.

The preparations were almost complete and Chris was about to begin assembling his con when he heard a loud crashing noise coming from down the hall. Initially, he figured that it was simply Joseph tripping over something but a few moments later, he heard the same type of sound again. Despite trying to be secretive, Chris was expecting to hear Joseph's "My bad!" anytime now so when he heard nothing following the second noise, he cautiously set aside his project and crept out into the long corridor leading to the equipment and locker rooms.

"Frost?" he called out tentatively, voice barely above a whisper. "Is everything okay?" When he still received no answer, the marksman grew mildly concerned. Knowing Joseph's clumsy nature, the other man had probably tripped over something and knocked himself out. It wouldn't have been the first time something like this had happened, but this was one occasion where they could not afford to be careless. Still, Chris remained wary as he approached the slightly ajar door that led to the equipment room. Carefully, he pushed the creaking door out of the way and stepped into the dark room.

"Joseph?" One quick cursory glance told him that the other man seemed nowhere present in the room, at least not where he could see him.

"C'mon man, we agreed to a truce if we helped each other on this one. Get out here."

Still no response. Chris squinted in a futile attempt to see in the dark and proceeded to further explore the room. He moved slowly to avoid tripping over something but the toe of his boot had still managed to come into contact with an object that was directly in the middle of the floor. Bending down to investigate the origins of the object, he quickly discovered that it was Joseph's box of supplies. As he rummaged through it, he realized only about half of the box was empty, meaning that Joseph hadn't even come close to finishing the set-up of his part of the plan. Becoming increasingly annoyed, Chris kicked the box out of his way and look up just in time to see a shadow disappear into the locker area.

"I saw you, asshole. What the hell are you trying to pull?" He growled as he walked toward the area where he saw his 'friend'. "Really, you can stop now. Let's finish this thing up so we can get out of here."

Chris glanced briefly around the room and was about to start yelling in agitation when he heard what sounded like a pounding noise coming from one of the larger lockers in the corner of the room. Curiosity piqued and anger all but forgotten, he approached the locker, noticed now that the sound was definitely coming from inside the locker.

"What the hell are you up to now?" he asked out loud as he turned the handle, fully expecting something to jump out at him. "I'm so going to kill you for this, Fros- _oh my god!_"

"Mmmph! Mmmm!"

He had steeled his nerves for some stupid prank so when he found Joseph inside of the locker with his mouth gagged and his limbs bound behind him, he was more than a little shocked. As talented as Joseph claimed to be, there was no way that he could have done this to himself and no Chris immediately dropped to his knees and began trying to untie him,

"What the hell happened to you?" Chris demanded as he yanked down the gag that was preventing the other man from forming a coherent sentence,

"No time!" Joseph gasped as soon as his mouth was free. "Hurry, get me out of here before- oh shit behind you!"

Chris had zero opportunity to react before a crippling sensation exploded across his body and he dropped to the floor in a pained twitching. Soon after, the lights to the small room flickered on and he was able to identify his assailant with a complete mix of shock and confusion.

Albert Wesker simply stood over his incapacitated target, laughing sadistically.

"Captain?! What the- WHY! What did you do to him" Frost cried out before noticing the instrument in the blond's right hand. "You _tasered_ him?! What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, still screaming.

Chris meanwhile had a very similar line of questioning for the older man but found himself unable to vocalize them do to his crippling and still spasming condition. Instead his could only continue to stare up at the he looming figure above him

"I had anticipated that certain individuals might attempt to cause some degree of discord this evening and I merely wanted to try my hand at the 'fun'. How'd I do?"

"You call this an April Fool's joke? This isn't a joke, this is torture!" Joseph argued as he continued to flail around in a futile attempt to get himself free.

"Do forgive me, I'm clearly new to this 'April Fool's' nonsense," the captain replied, voice dripping with disdain. "Oh well. Perhaps you'll view this event as a clear deterrent to ever attempt your own trickery again? I wouldn't want this to happen to you two again next year…"

Joseph was about to muster an indignant cry when Wesker strode over and repositioned the gag on his mouth.

"Well of course I cannot let you go, Mr. Frost. That would rob me of my satisfaction and indicate to you that you still have a chance to pull of one of your schemes, and I simply cannot have that. So," he shut the locker door, effectively trapping the other man inside once more. "Perhaps I will see you in the morning."

Ignoring the muffled screams that were coming from the locker, Wesker turned his attention to Chris, who was still twitching on the floor.

"Now, what to do with you… Aha. I know…"

---

The day was already looking great for Jill Valentine. She had woken up early, went on a refreshing run, made herself a hearty breakfast, and even had time to stop for coffee on the way into work. Pulling into the RPD parking lot, she felt ready to take on any super criminal or assignment that S.T.A.R.S. could throw at her, and still be bright and cheerful.

That was, at least, until she saw Chris's and Joseph's cars parked right next to each other on the far end of the lot. There was no way that both of them were here this early, unless…

She fearfully glanced to her watch and confirmed that yes, today was in fact April Fool's Day.

'_Shit!'_ She cursed mentally, now completely agitated as she carefully stepped out of her vehicle. So much for her good day.

'_Well, maybe it's just a coincidence that they got here on time… Maybe… Damnit, who am I kidding? I'm so screwed.'_

Resisting the urge to get back in her car, go home, and call in sick, Jill slowly made her way into the RPD, wary and on the lookout for any trap that the pair may be ready to spring on her. Getting through the first floor was easy; the regular officers were going about business as usual, as if today weren't the worst 'holiday' in all of history. That however was to be expected for it was once she made her way to the second floor that things were sure to get interesting. She hoped to whatever deity existed that her desk wasn't sabotaged again this year as she trekked up the stairs, preparing herself for some onslaught of childish stupidity.

So when she saw Chris Redfield passed out, gagged, and handcuffed to one of the handrails in the hallway, she was extremely taken aback.

She approached the situation carefully, not yet disregarding the nagging feeling that this too was part of some sort of hoax. As she got closer however, he seemed to attempt to roll over and made an awful snoring sound as he tried to get into a more comfortable position. Somehow, despite being is what looked like the most terrible place to take a nap, Chris was actually sleeping. Still perplexed, Jill stared at her sleeping partner for a moment longer before ultimately shaking her head in confusion and proceeding towards the locker room to drop off her bag.

Once again, she was completely unprepared for what happened next.

The second she opened her designated locker, Joseph Frost's body slid out and slumped onto the linoleum floor. Jill blinked a few times to make she what she just witnessed had truly just happened before bending down to inspect the condition of the newest Alpha Team member. Just like Chris, Joseph was bound, gagged, and somehow sleeping.

"I apologize for violating your locker in such a fashion, Ms. Valentine."

Heart racing, Jill spun around to face the unexpected presence behind her.

"Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me, Captain!" she gasped, putting a hand to her chest in an attempt to calm herself down. "Pardon the language, sir."

Wesker simply chuckled lightly and moved past her to examine the inert body of Joseph.

"Sir, may I ask what happened? Did you… This seems a bit on the extreme side…." She trailed off, not wanting to accuse the older man of anything specific, for she still had no idea what the hell was going on.

"Let's just assume that after today, they will not be trying any more of their foolish antics. Extreme though it may be, I deemed this particular course of action necessary if they are to learn any sort of 'lesson'. Or would you rather have walked into a water-logged desk once more?" Wesker asked, tilting his head to the side inquisitively.

Jill shook her head fervently and straightened herself out before replying.

"No sir. If you thought this was an effective, uhm, training exercise, I am inclined to support you. I'm sure I'll get over the fact that there was a person in my locker in due time. My fault for leaving it unlocked, I suppose."

"Glad to hear it."

"Should we just leave him there…? I mean, he is in the middle of the floor."

"I leave it in your judgment. It was your locker he was located in, after all."

Jill bit her lower lip in thought. She could be nice and let both Joseph and Chris free the moment Wesker walked away, perhaps bribing them into doing her bidding for the rest of the week, or, she could be just as sadistic as her captain and leave them as they were. It wasn't really a difficult decision to make.

"Maybe I'll put him back in the locker if he starts to make noise," she mused aloud. "I'm sure Chris could fit into one as well, if he becomes a nuisance…"

"A workable solution. See you in the office once you get settled, Ms. Valentine."

Jill met Wesker's smirk with a grin of her own before the blond turned to exit the room. She unloaded her bag and placed it in her locker as normal, as if there were not a live human body that had just fallen out of it. Sure, the boys might resent her for not helping them out and acting as an accomplice to Wesker, but the situation was far to amusing to let them out of their punishment easily.

Removing the paperwork from her bag, she smiled once more before exiting the locker room to head to her desk in the office and resisted the urge to kick Chris's unconscious form as she passed him in the hallway.

Today was turning out to be an excellent day after all.

---

**A/N:** I am _**so sorry**_ that this took ages to put up. I made the mistake of asking someone for a file online and I've been battling computer viruses ever since, which are largely responsible for why I haven't posted in a timely fashion. Well, that and school. And ODST. And Uncharted. And Katamari Forever... moving on! **Thank you so much **to everyone that's stuck with me, and thank you to all the new readers that stumbled across this and found it interesting. I plan on doing actual shout outs to some of my more memorable reviewers next time, I just wanted to get this out there ASAP. Thank you again for all of your comments and suggestions, they really do keep me interested in writing this fic.

This chapter was inspired by replaying RE2 and noticing those random ass handcuffs in the hallway on the second floor of the RPD. I believe there's actually a story element explaining why they were there in the first place, but I happen to like my explanation better, not to sound elitist or anything.

Thank you once again for reading and please continue to send in your reviews, they mean a lot to me. Thanks guys!


	7. Note

Sorry to everyone that thought this was a legitimate update; I know I've been slacking in posting a new chapter when I said there'd be one up soon but I need to address something.

I do not write for profit, nor do I wish to. I write for fun. I do it because for one reason or another, a game/movie/anime/TV show/whatever has touched my person and gave me the inspiration to create an original scenario based on pre-existing characters and story. I do it to share the love with fellow fans of a genre, to connect, and to entertain.

Thus, I cannot quite accurately describe the utter **betrayal **and **rage** I currently feel to learn that someone has _blatantly taken my work_ and reposted it as their own. I am all for inspiration, as Reverence was the result of being inspired by Resident Evil, but **I cannot condone outright plagiarizing another individual's time, effort, and creativity**. I can't believe you would stoop so low; it's _pathetic_.

That being said, this incident certainly does not put me in the best of moods to continue with Reverence, or any other story that I was planning on posting. It is absolutely disheartening to find out that this individual sought to capitalize and take the credit for my own work and quite frankly I have half a mind to rip the entire thing down from . The other half wants to slam my fist through the laptop screen, but that seems to be a more expensive endeavor.

I want you to know that you have been reported to the appropriate individuals and I will do everything in my power to ensure that you never do this to anyone else again. In fact, if I have it my way… well… you'll find out soon enough. Nice try, but you failed.

I want to extend my deepest gratitude to the individual that alerted me to the presence of this fic on another website. I simply cannot thank you enough; I dread to think of what else could have been stolen had I not found out sooner.

I suppose this means I will have to remain hyper-vigilant and constantly be on the lookout for other transgressions, as much as it bothers me that I even have to do this in the first place. I know I'm not the first victim of such a violation and I unfortunately won't be the last but again it is difficult to accurately describe how this has affected me without being utterly profane.

To everyone else, I'm sorry that you had to get this message but I felt that it needed to get out there. I love and appreciate all the support I've been given thus far but as I mentioned previously, I do not know if Reverence will be continued after this; my morale is so exceedingly low at this point. We'll see how these events unfold, I suppose.

Cheers.

-Reaper


End file.
